


I'll Bite Your Lips (though i know better than this)

by purewhitepage



Series: Holiday Prompts [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewhitepage/pseuds/purewhitepage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He almost missed Will, having to do a double-take to assure himself that it was in fact Will Graham face down in a pile of freshly laid snow on his property.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Bite Your Lips (though i know better than this)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third drabble/one-shot in a series of 25 for the 25 Days of Christmas Drabble Challenge. It's also quite a bit late, due to real life getting in the way of my writing. I'm hoping to catch up, however! The third prompt was: **snow**

If Hannibal hadn’t happened to look up at that moment, Will Graham likely would have frozen to death in the snow by the willow tree in his backyard.   
  
As it was, he almost missed Will, having to do a double-take to assure himself that it was in fact Will Graham face down in a pile of freshly laid snow on his property. He blended well, seemingly clad in nothing but boxers and a white t-shirt, but his dark hair stood out starkly enough that even by just the moonlight it was visible.   
  
Heaving a soft sigh, Hannibal snapped his book closed and set it down on the table before standing up to retrieve his boots from the hall.   
  
Somebody had to go and chisel Will out of the ice, and that seemed to be his permanent job nowadays.   
  
Will was still in the same position, unmoving, when Hannibal slid open the glass doors and made his way over the crunchy layers of snow. It wasn’t exactly surprising; it was a bit of a mystery to Hannibal how the man’s brains hadn’t boiled in his head by now, what with the raging Encephalitis.   
  
His breath came out in little white puffs, and Hannibal pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He couldn’t see Will’s car in the driveway, so that meant the other man had walked here. In the dark. In what appeared to be a pair of house slippers.   
  
Hannibal sighed again; at least he had the presence of mind to put _something_ on his feet before he went trekking over salt-covered roads and woods.   
  
Reaching down, Hannibal pressed two of his finger’s to Will’s throat—just to make sure the man was even alive—and shivered at the coldness of his skin. He had to have been out here for a while.   
  
“Alright Will, up you go,” Hannibal said, grabbing the other man up under the arms and lifting him. Will was a dead weight in his arms, but he was used to carrying dead weight. Will’s head lolled to one side as Hannibal brushed snow off of his front with a gloved hand, frowning when the crystals appeared to be crusted right to his shirt.  
  
Will was shivering even as he leaned limply against Hannibal, jaw locked shut tightly. It was amazing that he had managed to make it this far in nothing but a shirt and a pair of boxers without being questioned by the police.   
  
It often seemed that Will had the very worst of luck.   
  
Adjusting his grip, Hannibal hefted Will up into a bridal-style carry, hoping none of his neighbors were up at this hour. Slinging Will over his shoulder would have been even worse; this was the lesser of two evils.   
  
He could feel the chill of Will’s skin even through his jacket, Will’s face pressed into the crook of his neck like a block of ice against his skin.   
  
Luckily, Hannibal was able to maneuver the glass door open with only one hand. Once he got Will inside however, he wasn’t sure what to do with him. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, and he certainly didn’t want Will dripping snow all over his recently acquired Armenian rug.   
  
Frowning slightly, he set Will down onto the tiles and set about rolling up the rug and tucking it into the hall closet. He also grabbed a mass of towels and extra blankets, returning to find that his unexpected and uninvited guest was still completely out.   
  
Hopefully getting some warmth back into him would perk him up. If Will Graham, FBI agent, died at _his_ apartment, it could lead to a messy investigation that he was not in the mood to deal with.   
  
Plus, it was nice to have such a strong connection to law enforcement. It’d be a shame if he lost that.   
  
The fire crackled pleasantly in the hearth, giving off enough heat that Will’s shirt and boxers were quickly soaked through from the melted snow. Hannibal wiped it up with a towel, keeping a close eye on Will as he did so. He didn’t miss the first twitch of a finger, the first flutter of lashes.   
  
Will had been lucky; _this_ time.   
  
Hannibal watched while Will slowly swam his way up towards consciousness, his teeth starting to chatter loudly as he did. It made the fine hairs on Hannibal’s arms stand up; he suddenly wished he had popped an album into the living room sound system before settling down for the night with a book.   
  
Not that his nightly routine had gone according to plan anyway.   
  
He was in the middle of studying Will, trying to puzzle out why exactly the other man had decided to pass out in his yard rather than the many other _closer_ yards in his own town. Even mindlessly, Will chose him every time.   
  
Will sat up then, looking bewildered and cold. His eyes scanned the room briefly before focusing on Hannibal, who was perched on the edge of the chair by the fire.   
  
“Where am I?” Will asked distractedly, wrapping his arms around himself from the cold.   
  
Hannibal raised his brows; Will had been in his sitting room countless times over the past few months. “My home,” he said finally. “Do you not remember how you got here, Will?”  
  
Shaking his head, shaggy wet hair falling in his face, Will looked childlike. It prompted Hannibal to stand up and grab a dry towel and a stack of blankets moving to take a seat on the floor next to Will.   
  
Unfolding one of the blankets, he carefully draped it around Will’s shoulders, tucking it tightly around him. He looked pathetic like this, bedraggled and confused.   
  
To Hannibal, it was incredibly attractive. He could almost feel the vulnerability coming off of Will in waves, and Hannibal was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.   
  
“Thank you,” Will said distractedly, glancing up at Hannibal and then back down at the floor once more. “I just—the last thing I remember was being in my office. Going over lesson plans, but now I’m here…and I have no idea how I got here.”   
  
Will’s voice was quivering with the cold, and Hannibal reached out to take both of Will’s hands in his own. They were like ice.   
  
“It’s not unusual for you to sleepwalk, to lose time like this,” Hannibal started, attempting to massage warmth back into Will’s shaking hands. Will didn’t seem to mind, and instead scooted closer, listening to Hannibal intently. “However, why do you think it is that during one of these _episodes_ , you almost always end up here?”  
  
It was quiet for long moments, only the crackling of the fire in the hearth breaking the silence.   
  
“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought,” Will said finally, not meeting the other man’s gaze. It was clear that he didn’t want to discuss this.   
  
Yet he still held on tightly to Hannibal’s hands, as if the other man was his rock in the middle of the open ocean.   
  
It intrigued Hannibal, and amused him at the same time; if Will only _knew_ …  
  
Letting go of Will’s hands, Hannibal stood up. “Considering you nearly froze to death in my backyard, you may want to give the idea a little bit of thought. Now, I’m going to go and get you some dry clothes.”   
  
Will nodded absently, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders as Hannibal left the study and stalked up the stairs to his bedroom.   
  
It was easy enough to find clothes for Will to wear; he had an old Johns Hopkins University tee that he’d never worn tucked into the back of his closet, along with a pair of flannel pajama pants.   
  
Most likely, Will would be staying the night.   
  
Padding back down the stairs, Hannibal found his unexpected guest much the way he had left him; soaking wet and on the floor.   
  
“Here, take these,” Hannibal said, thrusting the small bundle of clothing into Will’s hands. “I assume you will be staying the—”  
  
“I think you make me feel safe. I think you make me feel safe, and that’s why I always end up here when I’m not in my right mind,” Will blurted before Hannibal was able to finish his sentence. “I see you more as my friend than my psychiatrist, and you’re always so _calm_ whereas I’m always so…”   
  
Will made a vague flapping gesture, frustrated. “You ground me.”   
  
He finally met Hannibal’s gaze, looking incredibly uncertain about what he had just said.   
  
In response, Hannibal smiled. “I’m stability, which is something you are in need of right now. I understand.”   
  
Will huffed out a frustrated breath, wishing he had the ability to profile himself more thoroughly; he didn’t know exactly what attracted him to Hannibal, but there was definitely something _there_.   
  
A train of thought best left alone.   
  
Clearing his throat, finally thawed enough to stand up and away from the fire, Will picked up the bundle of clothing. “Am I staying here tonight?”  
  
Hannibal gave him a small smile, gesturing towards the staircase. “You are certainly welcome to.”  
  
Letting the blanket fall in a heap on the tiles, Will made his way up the staircase before realizing he had no idea which room was Hannibal’s, and which rooms were the guest rooms. All of the doors were closed.   
  
“You can sleep in the room across the hall from me,” Hannibal’s voice came from behind him, as he edged past Will to open the oak door to the guest room.   
  
The decorations were impeccable; much like the rest of Hannibal’s home, office and life. Will didn’t know why he was the least bit surprised that the man’s unused rooms would be just as perfect as everything else about him.   
  
Hannibal hovered in the doorway as Will sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. It made sense, considering he had walked all the way here.   
  
“If you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to come and get me,” Hannibal said, his words smooth and silky in the darkness of the upstairs hall.   
  
Before Will could respond, Hannibal had gone to his own room, closing the door but leaving it cracked. No doubt so that Will wouldn’t feel awkward coming to get him.   
  
Trying to push Hannibal out of his mind, Will stripped out of his wet clothes and hug them up before pulling on the t-shirt and pajama pants. He’d never seen Hannibal wear this shirt, though it smelled like him, and Will knew the other man had gone to Johns Hopkins University.   
  
Laying down in the middle of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, Will still couldn’t escape Hannibal. The clothing, the sheets, the pillows—they all smelled like him, making Will think about the way Hannibal had held his hands. Warm and gentle, he had suppressed the cold in Will’s skin.   
  
Turning his head, Will stared at the cracked-open door for long minutes before sitting up and swinging his feet over the side of the bed.   
  
Hannibal had said _for any reason_. This was a reason—albeit not a terribly good one. But Hannibal was warmth, and safety—even when Will didn’t know who or where he was.  
  
Padding across the hall, thoughts of Hannibal holding onto his hands so carefully and tenderly looped over and over in his mind until there was no more walking to be done and he was standing in front of the other man’s door.   
  
The light was still on.   
  
Pushing it open a little further, Will managed to catch a glimpse out the window; it was snowing hard, big, wet flakes that stuck to the glass.   
  
“Hannibal?” Will called, in a voice much smaller than intended. “Can I come in?”  
  
Hannibal was sitting upright in bed, peering at Will over the rims of his glasses and holding a book. He gave Will a lopsided sort of smile, a _knowing_ look, and Will considered turning around right then.   
  
“But of course,” Hannibal said, setting his book and glasses on the nightstand. “I was expecting you at some point tonight.” 


End file.
